


An Eggnog Christmas

by HannahJane



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Feelstide 2013, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sugary sweet, ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahJane/pseuds/HannahJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Feelstide 2013 event: From holiday eggnog to holiday spirits, the team is not short on alcohol to celebrate with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Eggnog Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Feelstide 2013 event. The prompt was: From holiday eggnog to holiday spirits, the team is not short on alcohol to celebrate with.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

“ ‘s not fair.” Clint is pouting, tucked under a mountain of blankets, Natasha’s legs, and his favorite threadbare purple hoodie. Natasha snorts, but says nothing, her gaze following the activity by the tree where Pepper is supervising Tony’s potentially disasterous tree decorating. The Stark Industries CEO has ornaments hanging from each finger and tinsel clinging to her sweater and slacks, but she’s laughing at whatever Tony is saying which is undoubtedly lecherous judging by the way Steve is blushing. Natasha can’t stop her lips from twitching.

 

“You’re not getting eggnog, Clint.” She says, her hand wrapping around her mug a little tighter because she’s known the man for years now and doesn’t trust him not to make a play for her cup, walking pneumonia or not.

 

“ _Natasha_ ,” there’s a tone to his voice that leans towards whiny and she arches an eyebrow at him, taking a pointed sip from her mug as she does so. Eggnog isn’t her favorite holiday beverage, but Stark does something with his that makes it more than simply palatable. Natasha suspects it’s the heavy application of bourbon, which would go a long way to explaining the warmth that’s slowly working it’s way through her veins.

 

“Hi,” Pepper announces her presence by slipping onto the couch behind Natasha, smelling like fresh cut pine . Natasha tilts her head back and is rewarded with a kiss that tastes like mulled wine and spices.

 

“I hate everyone.” Clint says, voice raspy and eyes faintly glazed from the low-grade fever. Natasha smiles at Pepper’s questioning look, squeezing the arm that’s wrapped around her waist.

 

“Clint’s pouting because he can’t have eggnog.” Bruce, who has until this point been sitting on the love seat, watching the action around him with general amusement, finally chimes in, his own cup of eggnog firmly in hand. Clint harrumphs and burrows deeper into his nest, murmuring something that’s probably insulting.

 

“Dairy and pneumonia don’t mix, Legolas.” Tony says, abruptly flopping onto the rug in front of the couch, miraculously keeping his entire martini in its festive candy-cane striped glass. Steve’s descent is far more controlled, the glass in his hand filled with some frosty concoction that’s undoubtedly one more of Tony’s attempts to test Captain America’s limitations. It’ll never happen, but it makes Stark happy to try and if it keeps him from building Santa’s sleigh and turning Dummy and You into robotic reindeer, Natasha doesn’t see a problem with it.

 

“It’s not my fault.” At least that’s what it sounds like Clint is trying to say. All that really comes out is “mmmmffmmmfmmm” and really a grown man shouldn’t look adorable when he’s pouting like a toddler, but Clint has always been special.

 

“Yes, we know it’s not your fault.” Coulson is smiling as he walks into the room, a tray of food in his hand. Behind him, Thor has two trays in each hand and a berry-decked garland around his neck, a headband with snowflakes on springs perched atop his thick blonde hair. Clint squirms out of his slump, struggling to get his arms out from under the blankets and when finally freed, he makes grabby hands in Coulson’s general direction, complete with a pouty face.

 

“Spoiled,” Coulson says fondly, sliding his tray onto the large coffee table, snagging a pair of mugs off the corner of it. Natasha’s legs get bumped out of the way and she takes the opportunity to slide over, curling into Pepper with a satisfied sigh. They end up all clumped into couples—Tony and Steve on the floor, Coulson and Clint in one corner of the couch, Natasha and Pepper on the other end, with Thor and Bruce sprawled across the love seat—and between the festive music that JARVIS has been playing since 12:01 am December 1st and the smell of the tree that has drifted into all corners of the Tower, it’s the closest thing to a happy holiday that Natasha thinks she’s ever experienced.

 

“What’s that?” Tony asks, stretching across Steve to reach for the large tankard that Thor is resting on his knee. The Asgardian smiles broadly, but pulls the mug back from Tony’s questing hands all the same.

 

“Asgardian mead is perhaps not the best beverage for you, Man of Iron. It is quite strong.” Tony pouts, but it’s not nearly as endearing as Clint who has buried his face in the side of Coulson’s neck and Steve easily reels the billionaire back in, distracting the man with the contents of his martini glass. One of Pepper’s hands settles on Natasha’s side, thumb stroking across the curve of her hip as the other woman steals a sip from Natasha’s eggnog.

 

Clint is making pleased sounds from the end of the couch, his nose mostly buried in the depths of one of the Captain America mug that Coulson has been holding. Even from a foot and a half away, Natasha can smell the mixture of whiskey, lemon, and honey and she smiles at Coulson who has enabled his husband once again, but only in the best possible way.

 

“If anyone says anything that belongs in a Hallmark movie right now, I’m cutting you off and possibly throwing you out,” Tony threatens, digging his hand into the bowl of cheddar popcorn on the coffee table.

 

“Shut up, Stark.” Clint rasps, but there’s no malice in the words and while not all of them may have the best holiday experiences—Thor’s tales of Asgardian holiday events read more like battle epics rather than fond family memories—the possibility of building new and better ones is hovering around them like the edges of a warm blanket.

 

Out in the lobby, the elevator dings and a few seconds later, Dummy’s robotic arm pokes around the corner, a faux Santa beard draped over his claw. He chirps at them and then disappears to the tune of a series of loud thumps.

 

“Hey!” Tony yells. “You better not break any-“ a loud crash followed by a mournful series of beeps cuts off the billionaire’s warning and he groans, dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Not it.” Clint murmurs and buries his nose back in the side of his husband’s neck. “Phil’s not it either.” The SHIELD agent smiles apologetically, but the way his grip tightens around the archer said he really isn't.

 

“Sir,” JARVIS intones, his interruption as polite as ever. “I’m sorry to inform you that Dummy has located the twinkle icicle lights and is intent on decorating as many rooms as possible with them. I have managed to convince him that the workshop is not the appropriate place for Christmas decorations and as a result he has turned his attentions to the rest of the Tower.”

 

“He’s _your_ child, Tony.” Steve says, his smile warm and teasing. Tony shakes his head, mumbling something that sounds like outright denial. Dummy’s head pokes back around the corner, the Santa beard askew and string of tangled Christmas lights wrapped around his struts.

 

“Hey!” Tony struggles to his feet, pressing his martini glass into Steve’s large hand. “Get back here you mechanical menace!” Dummy chirps in what sounds like genuine alarm and disappears, Tony tearing after him, shouting threats about reprogramming and being donated to the scrap heap.

 

“I’m not doing the paperwork for this.” Coulson murmurs. “I’m on Christmas vacation.”

 

There's more yelling from the depths of the Tower.

 

“They’ll figure it out.” Pepper says, squeezing Natasha once again and Natasha squeezes back, well aware that the warmth flooding her body isn’t just from the eggnog. “One way or the other.”

 

Tony chooses that moment to stagger back into the living room, his hair going each and every way, a strand of Christmas lights wrapped all the way up his left leg and the Santa beard clinging to the front of his sweater. He looks faintly crazed, but that’s nothing new.

 

“Steve, get the suit. We’re assembling.”

 

“Really not doing the paperwork for this.” Coulson says as Steve stands, already trying to convince Tony that he can talk his Martha Stewart inclined bot down without the use of Captain America or the Ironman suit.

 

Natasha just hums and settles further into Pepper’s grasp, listening to her teammates banter and argue around her and the thumping from the lobby that indicates that Dummy will not be stopped without actual physical force.

 

She’s not quite sure how it happened or when but it feels like home and family and the things that she’s been missing.

 

“You okay?” Pepper whispers in her ear as Steve and Tony’s argument devolves into Steve dangling Tony’s martini glass high above his head with a big grin while the billionaire jumps for it.

 

“Yeah,” Natasha whispers back, pressing her lips to the corner of her girlfriend’s mouth. “I really am.”

 

 

 


End file.
